


Bacchic Delight

by Violetlyvanilla



Series: Roman AU [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: <1K fic, Bacchus AU, Bacchus Dean, First Kiss, M/M, Master Dean, Mutual Pining, OR IS IT, Role Reversal, Roman AU, servant cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-19 01:45:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18129323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violetlyvanilla/pseuds/Violetlyvanilla
Summary: In accordance with Roman tradition, Dean has been anointed Bacchus for the night, which means he presides as King of the Feast. For the god of wine and wicked delights to be appeased, Castiel must make any offering demanded of him. Turns out Dean has a particular appetite that only Castiel can sate.(This ficlet was written to see if I wanted to write a Roman AU. It could be read adjacent to chapter 4 of Buying Rebel. Buying Rebel is the longer expanded fic based on the characters who showed up in Bacchic Delight. You don’t need to have read one to read the other.)





	Bacchic Delight

**Author's Note:**

> Toying with the idea of writing a Roman AU after my current WIP is finished. This is a little scene form that Roman Cas/RebelSlaveDean AU verse. Lemme know if this should be a full blown fic.
> 
> Okay, so this ficlet is now adjacent to chapter 4 of Buying Rebel, the expanded Roman AU that came out of this fic.

Castiel hid in the library, behind the shelves of scrolls, with a small watered down flask of wine and some figs to satiate his hunger. He could stay here the whole night, safely ensconced amidst poetry and navigational charts, working on his charcoal drawing of Dean. Already the face on the expensive papyrus was taking shape. He had the outlines of the profile and the tempting mouth completed, the eyes were saved for last, such beautiful orbs ought not to be rushed. Besides he needed to make more study of Dean's eyes before he would dare to attempt them. Though when or how he might do that was a question for the gods, since he trembled to look upon them. Castiel was hollowing out the shading of the cheekbones when he was captured by Dean's men. Sam in armour with blurred rouge on his lips and cheeks. Gadreel with painted eyes and resplendent in a scarlet dress, borrowed from the housekeeper. Their faces red and sweating with glee, their breaths hot with wine and glossy with meat grease. Castiel sighed and put aside his art work, dusting off his plain cotton robes. They were light and airy and rather comfortable and he thought perhaps he should wear simple linen more often. 

"The king wants him trussed up," Sam giggled as he dangled a length of bronze chain in his hand. 

Gadreel laughed, eyes salaciously running over Castiel's body. Castiel gave them both a steely look, drawing himself to his full height but even his most haughty demeanour did not intimidate them. 

"Tonight Bacchus rules," Sam slurred, he should not have had so much wine, thought Castiel. "And my brother is his vessel and his will is law. And you are his heart's delight. So you must come, Castiel. Come and be merry." 

And that was how he found himself, chained and bound and decorated with flowers, tied to the masts of the master’s bed furious and embarrassed beyond measure. Outside the bedroom, there was music and the sound of dancing feet. The laughter of men and women. The warm evening saturated with the scent of feast. His heart hammering in his chest as he awaited the king’s return from the banquet. His pride indignant, his curiosity aroused. He had avoided seeing Dean all day, knowing that he had been anointed. The sight of Dean entering the bed chamber still left Castiel’s mouth dry. 

Dean was glorious in a crystal encrusted silver crown. His torso and legs naked. The embroidered and bejewelled skirt was a dark midnight blue, royally setoff against pristine white silk gathered over his shoulders and draping down his back. His chest was covered in nothing but golden chains, his nipples stained with rouge but his face was clean and closely shaved. His mouth wine red and his cheeks blushing pink as he paused at the door. Staring back at Castiel with just as much awe. Dean recovered a little faster, licking his lips hesitantly as he approached, growing bolder as he neared. The flicker of the candles burning in his field green eyes. 

Someone had laid out a golden platter, laden with crimson grapes and emerald olives, a jug of sweet red liquor breathed out a heady rose scent. A food offering left on the bed beside Castiel, who was the carnal offering. Dean reached out and for a second Castiel thought Dean would sear him with a touch, only to watch Dean gently pinch the largest grape between thumb and forefinger, twisting till a soft click sounded. He pressed the fruit to Castiel’s mouth, waiting patiently for Castiel to unlock his jaw, the firm flesh nudging past Castiel’s chastely sealed lips, sweet pressure against Castiel’s teeth. Then a squirt of juice, honey sweet, burst over his mouth and Dean suddenly leaned in and kissed Castiel with hunger and desperation co-mingled. 

Castiel shook, he must be shaking, he could hear the jangling of the chains as his body shivered at the touch of Dean’s hands over his face. His traitorous tongue savoured the texture of Dean’s lips. He made pathetic sounds as Dean finally pulled back, his eyes, shockingly pretty eyes, affixed to Castiel’s. Castiel was blinded by the beauty of him, not for the laurels at his temples, not for the golden pearls dripping over his chest, all those semblances of grandeur were dust compared to the stardust freckles and moonlight skin. The eyes like fresh springs. The once broken and now forever barely perceptibly crooked nose. With horror, Castiel realised he was in love. 

“Tonight, you are my slave, servant to my desires,” Dean said softly, without malice, his eyes bright. “For tonight I am Bacchus and you my chosen consort. I could parade you naked through the house, ravish you in the fields, mark your rear with the imprint of my hand, have you beg for mercy on your knees.” 

“Dean...” Castiel said weakly. “Please.” 

“Tonight you are not my master and I am not your slave,” Dean smiled wryly. “So you cannot protest that you are taking advantage of an unequal situation. The months I’ve yearned for your touch, the thousand looks and hundreds of spurned advances, you are out of luck Castiel. On your knees!” 

“I cannot, Dean,” Castiel said through gritted teeth. 

“I will undo your leg bindings, Cas,” Dean grinned. “I know you will keep them open for me anyway.” 

“Think of the morning. What will we be, how can we face each other...” Castiel was pleading now. “I know there are to be no repercussions for the actions taken at a Bacchic festival. But there will be consequences. That for me will be profound.” 

“I know what it is to feel ... profoundly,” Dean stared into Castiel’s eyes. “No, do not look away, like always. I tasted your heart in your kiss. I know you want me. Surrender.” 

Castiel surrendered as his heart’s master bade him, on his knees, on his back, on and on. Till the morrow dawned.

**Author's Note:**

> Spncoldesthits entry for the theme “Guilty pleasures in a craft store Redux” 
> 
> The special rule for this month was for a story to be under 1000 words to receive a points deduction.


End file.
